


Deadpool’s Bestest, Best Besties!

by RogueFanKC



Series: The Consulting Crapsack and the Hydra Bicycle [8]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Wade Wilson, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Deadpool being Deadpool, Hilarity Ensues, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Mycroft's Meddling, POV Inspector Dimmock, POV Sally Donovan, Scotland Yard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 20:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20730455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueFanKC/pseuds/RogueFanKC
Summary: “Now before we begin, Inspector Dimmock and Sergeant Donovan: Mr. Wilson is highly…unconventional and unprofessional at times, and can display violent and anti-hero behavior.  But he is not malicious and can actually show empathy and loyalty when warranted.  Nevertheless, this will be a strenuous adjustment and task for both of you.”“Please,” Sally stated derisively at Mycroft, “there isno possible wayin Hell this ‘Deadpool’ can be any worse than Sherlock Holmes.”Deadpool: Hey, AO3 Readers!  Does this count under the trope "Famous Last Words" or "Tempting Fate"?





	Deadpool’s Bestest, Best Besties!

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated and written to Kelley aka [anotherwellkeptsecret](https://anotherwellkeptsecret.tumblr.com/) who is a wonderful artist and fellow Sherlock fan.

  


Sergeant Sally Donovan was smiling.

Actually skipping in her jaunt as the young woman merrily sauntered through the entrance to New Scotland Yard, macchiato in her hand.

It was a sunny day with a crisp, refreshing wind from the Thames.

Spring finches chirped happily in the background amid the blue sky.

There was actually little to no traffic on the roundabout, cars and vehicles gliding across the Northumberland and Whitehall as smoothly as could be with ample space for pedestrians on the sidewalk.

Her drink was soothingly warm, foamy and just the right amount of milk and hazelnut syrup.

She actually managed to get the majority of all her paperwork done before the weekend, meaning this Monday she could actually take her time doing investigation at a rare and leisurely pace.

And best of all…

“No Freak for a full **two months**!” sighed Sally in glee as she couldn’t help but twirl a bit in thankful delight, drawing a few looks from the other as she strolled towards her desk. Inspector Paul Dimmock gave a wry smirk from the doorway of his office.

“My, you’re in a good mood,” Dimmock observed wryly, “I haven’t seen a smile that big on your face since the Yard cleared Sherlock Holmes publicly.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you hoof,” sniffed Sally good naturedly, “I was just happy that Lestrade got reinstated and that his suspension had ended.”

“Speaking of Lestrade, any ideas how he’s enjoying his vacation with that Hill woman from S.H.I.E.L.D?”

“He’s on**_ training_** in order to act as the official liaison from Scotland Yard to the new S.H.I.E.L.D once it’s finished restructuring, Dimmock.”

“Sure, Sally. And the last training session that led to that sunburn on Lestrade’s neck wasn’t from some secluded beach in Tahiti how, exactly?”

“You’re a pig, Dimmock,” Sally shot back good-naturedly with a roll of her eyes as she settled down on her chair. Dimmock then went off on another tangent.

“Did you see the pictures of the wedding? I had to admit that a few officers including myself were a bit jealous that Anderson got to attend the ceremony of the century and see all the Avengers and the Guardians based on what photos the Daily Mail managed to scrape by.”

“If anything, this just**_ lowered_** my expectations I had for Captain America and the Winter Soldier. I actually thought those two were decent blokes until I found out that they married in duality with John Watson and the Freak. I suppose even for Avengers, there’s no accounting for taste.”

“You’re just mad that you lost the ‘Johnlock’ pool we had running in the office.”

Sally didn’t respond back, although she grumbled to herself as she took out a file from her Outbox. She had to admit that though happy for the winner, with the amount won, it wouldn’t have hurt Hopkins to donate a pithy five hundred quid to the office for a new set of coffee machines…

Just then, Constable Anna Barrett came over and knocked on the doorframe of Dimmock’s doorway.

“Dimmock, Donovan, the Chief’s wanting to talk to you both,” she stated.

**_That_** got their attention.

The Chief Superintendent hadn’t dealt with Dimmock at all this year, and Sally Donovan dropped off his radar ever since Sherlock Holmes’ exoneration and return after his Fall.

“Odd, why **us** specifically?” Dimmock mused as he and Sally strode over to the Chief Superintendent’s office, “I’m not currently working on anything high profile. You, Sally?”

“No, nothing since the Waters case. Hell, the Chief pretty much ignored me when it was proven I was wrong about the Freak and how I made him look bad for believing in Moriarty’s lies.”

Sally did her best to hide her resentment at being left high-and-dry as the scapegoat for that. What she wouldn’t give to actually have someone besides Lestrade who wouldn’t abandon her and stick with her despite all the turmoil she had to endure…

Sally and Paul both arrived to the Chief Superintendent’s office to see the Chief sitting ramrod straight in his chair with an unpleasant frown on his face, clearly perturbed.

And he wasn’t alone.

Standing with their backs to the Chief and waiting for Donovan and Dimmock were Mycroft Holmes and his assistant, Anthea.

“Ms. Anthea?” blurted out Dimmock, stammering and feeling a bit hot under his collar.

Sally rolled her eyes.

To her credit, Anthea looked up from her smart phone before she gave a polite smile and nodded at both of the officers before closing the office door. Mycroft Holmes, on the other hand, remained stoically prim, seated on one of the guest chairs in a dignified manner and with his umbrella by his side.

Sally suppressed the urge to groan at the appearance of Mycroft Holmes.

Whatever it is, it couldn’t be good. So much for having the perfect day…

“Inspector Paul Dimmock, Sergeant Sally Donovan,” Mycroft said crisply, “Thank you both for coming. Please have a seat.”

“**_Excuse me_**, Mr. Holmes…” growled the Chief Superintendent, “But this is **_my_** office.”

“Tea?” Mycroft segued smoothly as he tilted his head and turned his gaze directly to the Chief.

The Chief’s pasty face turned even redder as he began his tirade, “No, I don’t want any damn tea, you - !”

“You misunderstand,” Mycroft broke in sharply before he set a biting expression at the Chief, his line of sight as honed in as a laser beam, “Offer **_me_** tea.”

The Chief’s face became beet crimson, and it was only by Anthea’s smooth intervention that prevented the Superintendent from settling into a screaming match that would most likely have drawn in unwanted attention.

“We have a delicate situation that requires MI-6 to work closely with Home Affairs, and not even they along with CIB3 can deny the evidence.”

“What situation?” Sally asked, alert and piqued.

Anthea entered a few commands on her phone before a holographic screen appeared in thin air and displayed several pictures, one of them being James Moriarty and one being a face Sally Donovan herself recognized several years ago…

“That’s _Wilson_!” Sally exclaimed, recalling the man on screen being the constable who confided with her about doubts of Sherlock’s authenticity when the Bruhl children were kidnapped and who later was discovered to be a plant by James Moriarty sent to assassinate Lestrade.

“Indeed, and it turns out that digital trails from Wilson and Moriarty led to a rather troubling discovery. MI-6 has made some headway into tracing the accounts that were used to supply finances to Wilson. They have determined that Wilson’s funds were not only linked to Moriarty, but also to Hydra.”

“**_Hydra?!_**” gasped Dimmock. Even the Chief was stunned as he stared at Anthea and Mycroft. Even though only scant details were released to the press, nearly everyone in England (and the world) knew of the whole debacle in Washington D.C. and Project Insight and how S.H.I.E.L.D was secretly compromised by the terrorist organization for years and years.

This revelation did little to quell the unease in the room.

Sally frowned as she asked, “So did Moriarty work for Hydra? It would make sense considering he sold Steve Rogers and Watson to them last year for ransom money.”

“Surprisingly no, though he **did **consult with them,” Mycroft explained, “Moriarty would in no way be anyone’s subordinate. He chaffed at the idea of joining Hydra and wanted to build his own empire separate from theirs. However, Moriarty had no qualms assisting them with instructional guidance and taking care of smaller loose ends, especially given how lucrative their payments were. And not all of them were monetary.”

The Chief Superintendent recalled the battle of New York with the Chitauri years ago with the Avengers, and the thought of ordinary criminals and serial killers having alien technology and Hydra’s resources to wreak havoc on London and all its people sent an icy snake down his spine.

“Wait, this doesn’t make sense…” Dimmock pointed out, “It’s been years since Hydra was discovered and S.H.I.E.L.D was disbanded. And they’re being restructured right now under Coulson and his squad, so they are certainly going to be thorough in making sure that Hydra doesn’t infiltrate them again. So haven’t they been settled out once and for all? Why are we bringing this up **_now_**? And with **_us_**??”

“Because when we suspected that the investigation was taking far too long by Mycroft’s estimates and because of the kidnappings of Steve Rogers and John Watson from last year, we did some investigations of our own. We aren’t absolutely certain, but we believe that both MI-5 and MI-6 also had Hydra agents within_ their_ ranks. And we suspect that Scotland Yard has also been compromised,” Anthea explained.

“**_WHAT?!_**” shouted Dimmock, Sally, and the Chief Superintendent in unison, already forgetting to use their indoor voices.

“It can’t…that’s not possible…” spluttered the Chief Superintendent, truly at a loss.

Sally then broke in with a bad realization, “Actually, it **is**, Chief. Despite our background checks, Wilson was able to transfer to our department and no one in the Yard was ever able to detect anything fishy about his requirements and work history. If _Moriarty_, a consulting criminal, can get an assassin into our ranks, then Hydra, a _terrorist cult_ that has existed since before World War Two, definitely **could**.”

The Chief considered this, biting his lip, before he then turned to Mycroft with evident reluctance.

“What do you propose to deal with this threat, Holmes?”

“First off…” Mycroft stated, rising out from his chair, “This will require an operation with several unique individuals acting as a modest special-operations team. We will not involve all of Scotland Yard because it could easily cause a panic and subvert our efforts to spot any of Hydra’s spies. Not to mention it could cause alarm and force Hydra to either scurry out of our surveillance or act is desperation that could result in more deaths and destruction. Regrettably, Hydra is far too familiar with our previous standard operations and procedures, so they will know what to expect. Therefore, we need an **unorthodox and illogical** formula, one that that Hydra has never dealt with before. And I feel that the people in this room would be the best candidates for such a task.”

“You trust us?” scoffed Sally, and Mycroft turned a stony expression to the woman.

“I do. The fact that you were used as a pawn instead of being a collaborator for Moriarty’s scheme shows you have integrity and a desire to seek justice as stated by law. Dimmock attended Sherlock’s funeral after the Fall and was helpful in assisting Greg Lestrade in providing evidence that my brother did not falsify his cases. And your Chief is too much of a bureaucratic simpleton to_ ever_ be considered a mole.”

The portly Chief looked like he was ready to punch Mycroft in the face as a vein in his neck began to bulge out of his skin ever so slightly.

Anthea then interceded.

“Which is why we have discussed matters with MI-6 and Home Affairs before coming to a proposed solution: S.H.I.E.L.D has decided to send us a reliable agent who will be a liaison and work closely with you to spot and ferret out any Hydra agents while being under the guise of a recompense re-assignment in response to Lestrade’s upcoming role: his name is Wade Wilson, code name ‘Deadpool’. Deadpool is a mercenary who is an expert in tracking, weaponry, marksmanship, and hand-to-hand contact.”

“A _mercenary_?” Sally echoed, distaste clear in her tone of voice and the way she scowled.

“And how do we know that your proposed agent is trustworthy himself?” the Chief Superintendent asked, eyes narrowing, “How do we know he does not wish to become the next consulting criminal or isn’t a spy for Hydra as well?”

“If you knew Wade Wilson, you would realize the absurdity of that question,” Mycroft replied wryly. Before the Chief could point out that didn’t completely answer his question, the elder Holmes brother addressed the other two Scotland Yard officers.

“My request is that you both work with our liaison and treat him like you would with any other disgraced transfer. Show him around the building and the Yard’s tasks, take him on your daily activities around London, involve him in your investigations and crime scenes, and use him to find missing people or suspects of interest. I can assure you that he is under strict orders to behave and to not allow any physical harm to come to the three of you. Additionally, if there are any Hydra agents or any of Moriarty’s lingering influences, Deadpool is more than enough to deal with them properly for Scotland Yard and MI-6.”

Sally Donovan didn’t imagine her voice could get any flatter or colder.

“You’re asking us to go deep into the heart of terrorist espionage with a trigger-happy mercenary, violate the Yard’s rules, laws and protocols in an effort to make up for the incompetence of your organizations, and risk our lives and safeties of our coworkers and families to help eradicate a group dedicated to mass murder and global domination?”

Mycroft’s expression was just as blasé.

“Is that a no, Ms. Donovan?”

“I don’t back down from a problem, Mr. Holmes. This is a threat that involves the lives and safety of everyone in the Yard and London,” Sally countered.

If this pompous windbag thought that he was going to enjoy watching her fail, Mycroft Holmes was going to be severely disappointed. She would not give that bastard the satisfaction…

Anthea then added, “Naturally, not only will you earn the good graces and gratitude of MI-6 and our Majesty’s Secret Service, but a few select individuals will be more than happy to use the outcome of your task as further justification of your competence and becoming a future Detective Inspector for Donovan. And for both Donovan and Dimmock to have direct access to Interpol and other worldwide intelligence agencies for their cases, including the newly reformed S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Well, **_that_** certainly sweetened the pot.

Dimmock was heard sighing as he scratched his head awkwardly before he too nodded.

“I’ll never forgive myself if I stood by and did nothing. If the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. can risk their lives every day to save the planet, then we damn well should too. For Queen and County, the full monty,” Dimmock finished weakly, the last bit of humor trying to quell the fear trying to bubble in his mind.

The Chief, to his credit, had a fierce look on his face before he resolutely nodded and said, “I’ll respect your orders and follow what MI-6 says, Holmes. **For now**.”

He clearly still wasn’t enthused about working with anyone related to Sherlock.

Satisfied, Mycroft continued.

“Now before we begin, Inspector Dimmock and Sergeant Donovan: Mr. Wilson is highly…unconventional and unprofessional at times, and can display violent and anti-hero behavior. But he is not malicious and can actually show empathy and loyalty when warranted. Nevertheless, this will be a strenuous adjustment and task for both of you.”

“A violent but lawful anti-hero? _Oh!_ Like Luther, right?” Dimmock commented, already picturing a man like Idris Elba.

Anthea softly bit her lip in an effort to hide her snort.

Sally just scoffed as she lifted an eyebrow at Mycroft Holmes.

“Please,” Sally stated derisively, “After all the times the Fre-…your brother made fools of us at crime scenes, mocked and insulted us and deduced our private lives in public for years, and after the whole debacle with the Fall and rising from the fallout of his staged suicide, **there is no possible way** in Hell this ‘Deadpool’ can be any worse than Sherlock Holmes.”

To her surprise, the facial muscles of Mycroft twitched ever so slightly, as if the British government official was doing his best to not smile.

“Very well, then. Let us start with introductions. Anthea, tell Mr. Wilson to come to the Chief Superintendent’s office where he can get acquainted with our selected team.”

“I have sent the text informing him a minute ago, sir.”

There was a pause before Mycroft’s eyes widened.

“…did you specify that he is to go through the front entrance of Scotland Yard?”

Anthea had the most out-of-character look of stupefied horror on her face for a fleeting moment before she grimaced.

“Oh dear…” she admitted reluctantly.

Mycroft barely had time to lugubriously sigh as he opened his umbrella with a flick of his hand. Right before a red and black figure came crashing through the window of the Chief Super’s office.

That was on the second story.

Swinging on a pink bungee cord.

**_SMASH!_**

Glass and shrapnel went flying everywhere and the Chief Superintendent, Sally, and Paul Dimmock barely had time to duck and cover their heads as they were peppered with various debris. Thankfully, none of it caused any serious injuries and Mycroft thankfully shielded all of them from the brunt epicenter of the intrusion with his umbrella.

“**_WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?!_**” screamed a furious Chief Superintendent, popping up his head from the safety of his chair.

The costumed figure, from his sprawled-up position on the floor, held up on disjointed finger.

“_Wait, wait, wait!_”

With a flourish of his gloved hand, the stranger threw up a small cloud of glitter in the air before he managed to leap up and pose dramatically on one knee (despite have glass embedded into the fabric covering his face and chest and with one arm seriously fractured). With actual trumpet fan-fare playing from his phone, the man waving his fingers and hands, cheering, “**_Jazz hands_**!”

“Deadpool, you were supposed to check in through _the lobby_,” Anthea stated with a semi-amused but tired look on her face.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to get my daily dose of smashing windows and property damages! I was recommended five to seven violations a day!” whined the costumed individual, pouting with an expression of puppy eyes (which should have been impossible to discern given the concealment ensconcing his face).

“What part of ‘**low profile**’ did you understand?” Mycroft intoned severely, mouth in a grim line.

“The part between ‘low’ and ‘profile’, Mickey!” drawled Deadpool seductively, wiggling his eyebrows.

“A bit late now, I daresay,” sighed Dimmock as a crowd of officers and Scotland Yard staff were all gathered at the entrance to the Chief’s office, with a number of them either gaping or with guns drawn and aimed directly at the figure.

“It’s all right,” Anthea said, stepping out in front, hands up placatingly, “This is not an attack or an invasion. This man is a disgraced re-assignment from MI-6. He is one of ours who will be temporarily assisting here at Scotland Yard as part of his rehabilitation.”

Several of the officers looked at Anthea with the same stupefied disbelief as if she announced that Boris Johnson was in line to be the next King of England.

“_Seriously??_” chorused a few with skepticism.

Sally Donovan, after brushing the glass fragments from her hair, couldn’t help but stare at this Wade Wilson.

He was literally the strangest person she had ever witnessed before.

Even by the Avengers’ standards.

The stranger was dressed entirely from head to toe with a spandex body suit in the color of red and black with two white openings for his eyes in his mask. He was tall, and the bodysuit did little to hide to curves of his impressive muscular physique, broad shoulders, slimed waist, and a slight barrel chest. Despite crashing body first through solid glass and having a broken arm, he actually didn’t appear worse for wear. But what was actually disturbing were the twin katana swords fastened to a black harness strapped across his back and chest as well as the two black Desert Eagle pistols and the survival knife holstered across his belt along with a troublesome cache of bullets and cartridges. Judging from the odd look of the guns, Sally deduced they were custom-made and most likely personal given they also had the words “Vanessa” etched on the grips.

As Anthea and Dimmock were trying to get the crowd dispersed, Mycroft merely closed his umbrella while the Chief Superintendent was busy screaming directly into Deadpool’s face.

“Look what you did to my office, you crazy berk!” yelled the Chief, his face slowly turning as red as a strawberry, “_That was pure bulletproof glass!_ You should have had every bone broken in your body, you insane hoof!”

Deadpool scoffed, one eyebrow raised as he pointed out mockingly, “_Please!_ That thing wasn’t even _that _bulletproof if all it did was break my arm and dislocate my shoulder. If anything, you got hosed, so I probably saved you from thinking you’d be safe from any sniper with a defective window!”

“That would have been such a shame,” commented Mycroft dryly from the sidelines. Before the Chief could lay into Mycroft, the elder Holmes then segued smoothly, “I will have a repair crew and contractors from MI-5 here within the hour.”

“That’s not enough!” yelled the portly Scotland Yard supervisor, pointing a finger at Mycroft Holmes, “I should have known better than - !”

“Chief, it’s just a minor setback! **No harm, no foul!** Isn’t that right, Chief?!” Sally broke in strongly, urgently striding towards her superior while giving a conciliatory wave to Mycroft Holmes. The Superintendent whirled on Sally upon response.

“What the bloody hell are - ?!”

“**_Chief…_**” hissed Sally persuasively, her fingers digging into his upper arm, “Just let this go. Think about it: we raise enough of a stink, MI-5 will **_never_** work with Scotland Yard again and instead of this opportunity to try someone new, we’ll be stuck working with Sherlock Holmes _for the rest of our careers_.”

Thankfully, it was that last sentence that caused the Chief, despite one eye twitching and appearing as if collecting every fiber in his willpower to not explode, to remain begrudgingly silent.

Mycroft then managed to professionally start with the introductions, “Mr. Wilson, here are the two officers who will be in charge of your probationary period: Inspector Paul Dimmock and Sergeant Sally Donovan.”

“Yay, new people to induct in my ‘The Golden Girls’ slash-fan club!” cheered Deadpool as he cracked his neck back into place before he pranced up and eagerly shook Dimmock’s hand, pumping it so hard that Dimmock nearly lost his balance.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Sally! I’m Deadpool the Insufferable!”

“I’m Paul Dimmock, **not** Sally! _She’s_ Sally Donovan!” Dimmock snapped, extracting his hand from Deadpool’s glove and irately pointing at the Detective Sergeant.

Deadpool titled his head before he commented, “But you look like a ‘Sally’…”

“I’m a man, you hoof!”

“…do you mean biologically or you identify as one?”

“…are they bringing back ‘Candid Camera’ to the telly, and we’re in the middle of a stage?” asked Constable Anna Barrett asked warily, one side of her face twitching ever so slightly as she overheard Deadpool’s non-sequiturs.

Sergeant Coventry commented, “If I _ever_ needed proof that our country is going down the crapper, seeing _this_ bloke as a member of MI-6 is enough proof for me.”

“Name’s Sergeant Sally Donovan, Mr. Wilson,” Donovan stated masterfully, “I hope you’re as good as you say you are. We could use someone with your talents to help protect London.”

“Nice to meet’cha!” Deadpool praised before he said, “It’s so cool to meet a fellow black woman rising in the ranks amid all the misogyny and despite how most law enforcement agencies are a ‘boys-only’ mentality!”

Sally felt her pride go up a bit from the flattery and apparent empathy, not expecting that bit of a tribute.

Perhaps this Deadpool wouldn’t be so bad after all…

**_(Oh if she only knew.)_**

“Shut the hell up, RogueFanKC!” snarled Deadpool, pointing a certain finger upwards at the sky, “No one asked for your opinion, so quiet from the peanut computer, and just continue writing this fanfic like the lonely, no-social-life loser you and the rest of the Marvel and Sherlock fandom are!”

There was a strained and wary silence for a good ten seconds before the Chief asked anxiously, “…Mr. Wilson, _who_ are you talking to?”

“The fan-fiction author who’s writing the story.”

The Chief, Sally, and Dimmock all blinked.

Then they blinked again.

And then a third time for good measure.

Mycroft then managed to segue in proficiently said, “Deadpool, listen to my next words carefully. MI-5 has decided to give you one last chance to offer your services as part of your relegation after the international incidents you have caused from your latest fiasco - ”

“Hey! You said bring him back alive, and **I did**! Brain-dead is still technically alive, last time I checked!”

“No, it really isn’t, Deadpool,” Anthea pointed out, her voice full of disapproval.

Mycroft continued smoothly.

“As part of your devaluation, Inspector Dimmock and Sergeant Donovan will be assisting you in your next mission: to support Scotland Yard and protecting the inhabitants of London by apprehending and stopping any and all major activities that classify as ‘violent crime’ in the city. Protect the civilians and contribute to solving cold cases and ongoing investigations. To do this, abet and aid both Donovan and Dimmock with your skills in any way you can. They will be working alongside you from now on as you will be their personal liaison from MI-5 and assistant.”

Deadpool gasped in pure delight as he cupped his own face with both hands, the white eyeholes of his mask growing as wide as saucers as he exclaimed happily, “**_My own squad?!_** I’ll be working with the best and brightest in Scotland Yard and be a proper Englishman?!”

“Not in this case…” grumbled the Chief Superintendent bad-naturedly to himself.

Mycroft then stressed forcefully, “**_No killing if it can be helped._**”

Deadpool fake-yawned, “Lame.”

“All criminals and suspects you apprehend are to be _unharmed_ and left with _full _mental and physical capabilities.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

“Keep property damages to a _minimum_.”

“What-_ever_…” Deadpool echoed like a California Valley-girl.

“**No **public nudity.”

“Hey, that wasn’t as bad as you said it was! Hysterical blindness is only temporary!”

“MI-5 and MI-6 will keep a close eye on you and will keep updated on your progress by the Chief Superintendent. Do not dillydally or horse around, and you will be expected to take these tasks seriously.”

“Don’t I always?”

“You are _still_ banned from Buckingham Palace.”

“But Queen Elizabeth gets lonely!”

“And you are to protect Donovan and Dimmock and ensure their safety. Let no harm come to them, and guard them with your life if you need to. Follow all these orders to our satisfaction, and MI-6 may consider accepting you back into their ranks.”

“Would MI-6 even _want _him back?” Stella Hopkins whispered to her fellow officers in the background as she and her coworkers eavesdropped.

Mycroft finished, “Am I clear, Deadpool?”

Deadpool saluted and piped up in a horrible imitation of a Cockney accent, “Right-o and chop-chop, my good man!”

Deadpool then praced back and looped his muscular arms around both Inspector Dimmock and Sergeant Donovan, bringing them close to bis body in a group-hug.

“Donovan, Dimmock, and Deadpool, the Three Musket-Ds! Think about it: all our names start with the letter ‘D’! ‘D’ is for disembowel, drugs, and dance-party, preferably the sexy kind! It’s officially Fate! **It’s kismet! **Don’t worry!I won’t let anything happen to you guys! From now on, you two are gonna be my **_bestest, best besties_** for the next two months!”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Paul Dimmock suddenly had a sinking feeling of dread at the pit of his stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> Readers, fair warning: things might get a _wee_ bit crazy...


End file.
